Something's Got to Give

Roll your eyes, Miss Marilyn. It's that sort of post.

Barre class last night. A tough class -- and I'm playing catch-up thanks to my two-week exercise freeze. It's amazing how fast muscles regress. I'm certainly paying for this nugget of knowledge.

I managed to stay fairly upright on the physio ball. But then a lunge sequence started. And within two moves, I fell flat on the floor. Luckily in the back of the room (and -- more luckily -- only my ego was bruised), but that moment brought me as close to a physical meltdown as I've ever had in public.

(I come from a family of cryers -- for happy and sad things. Different from my kin, however, is my personal challenge of crying at frustrating/anger-inducing things. I've come to accept this personal weakness and have coping mechanisms to keep the tears in check when they're not appropriate. But let me tell you, anger tears are the worst -- and absolutely the most difficult to control.)

You see, sustaining a lunge when your lower stomach gets in the way of a full stretch and balance -- even though you could do it if the physical barrier wasn't there -- is beyond difficult. Forget about knee and joint issues; we're talking actual inability to reach around, brace on the floor, and hold position.

People think overweight folks don't exercise because they are lazy. And sure, there may be truth in that -- but no more so than the regular lazy population. What gets me is not that workouts are challenging or sweaty or gasp-inducing (they should be), but the sheer ignorance of what is physically possible by many people.

Imagine going to any given workout knowing there will be a moment where you outright fail. That's what I have to overcome mentally. Every. Single. Time.

I've had instructors stare blankly in my face when I've asked for props or modifications to work around my stomach (yet they'll always help a pregnant woman -- I'm at a loss on this one). I've suffered through rashes and broken skin in places you don't want to consider. I'm motivated to make this work because I am ridiculously stubborn. But there are times you want to give in because the mental stress of it all is just too much.

My new buddy Karen reached out to me in the silliness of the last couple weeks to share a few links and ideas of why my body refuses to let go, despite eating lower-carb (30-40g/day) AND low calorie (1600-1800/day). Pick your nutritional theory -- I'm doing it.

Some of the ideas -- such as sleeping in a totally dark room (we do...until the sun comes up and then it's HELLO, SUNSHINE!) and eliminating dairy for possible autoimmune/inflammation issues -- seem test-worthy. But then she sent me this:

"We've seen people eating an anti-inflammatory paleo diet for upwards of a year with little change in scale weight. They feel better, but weight is slow to budge. Then suddenly, 'something' changes and weight loss is rapid and easy." (boldface mine)

And really, you have to ask yourself: When do you say "enough is enough?" When do you stop believing that it's all going to come together? And -- personal irritation here -- why in HELL is it always people who have never had a weight problem (or alternatively men who lost 80+ pounds in a month -- don't get me started on that) who are telling us to just keep going, trust in the system, it'll all be fine. There are many days where it doesn't feel fine. There's a LOT more mental anguish and -- for the first time in my life -- sheer body hatred going on over here.

You should know I'm doing this not because of vanity or fashion or any of the usual self-involved reasons, but to avoid my family's diabetic and cancer-riddled fate. And, hopefully, in order to reduce my chances of a complicated pregnancy sometime in the next year. These are my goals. This is why the number on the scale -- and its refusal to change -- is so devastating to me.

I'm not giving up. I do feel more alert, less sluggish, and have far less cravings eating the way I do now than I did before. But I don't know that I can give any more. I'm being asked to have faith where science should provide. And, try as I might to find what I'm doing wrong, I know (and The Brit has assured me) that I'm not doing anything wrong. I've been failed -- by the system, by biology, by experts, by expectations.

When do you wave the white flag? Because I'll tell you -- I've got a pile full of Kleenex sitting here that, though soggy, can be waved at any time.

Over and Under and Through

Recalibrate. It's what I try to do when Things Aren't Working the Way They're Supposed To. In other words, my motto of over 20 years: "You can bitch, or you can do."

Weighing in this week showed I lost 1.2 pounds, almost back to where I was before the Great Disappointment of August 8th. Better news, sure, but not good enough. After a rant and wail, I did some thinking:

• Have I been totally in line with no sugar/no flour? Theoretically, yes...but there was my birthday dinner. And my aunt's birthday dinner. And my grandma's birthday dinner. No kidding -- I have six close family members (including me) with birthdays in a 2.5 week period. Not to mention about eight friends' birthdays during the same stretch of time. HELLO LEOS!
• Eating out. That salad dressing seemed a little sweet...and I forgot to ask for it on the side, so of course ended up with drenched lettuce. The gravy...only a spoonful, but surely it contained flour. Splitting just one sushi roll is OK, right? Wrong.
• Booze. Allowing for a glass of wine, no problem. But four on a Saturday night? Even spaced over the course of many hours? Adds up, perhaps?
• Portion sizes? Snacking? Getting better, but still an issue due to habit. Or boredom. Or both.

And so, I recalibrate. I hold myself accountable. And I move back into the tried-and-true:

• Dear Diary: Today I had...a half-pound of ground beef for breakfast?! Sure, hunger kicked in big time after all-morning blood draw fasting, but who truly needs that much at one sitting? (NB: This meal was an honest one-off, but illustrative of what happens when I don't pay attention.) Keeping a food log helps me remember where I am in a day and holds me to a place of honesty. For people like me who can't grasp "don't eat unless you're hungry," it's also a way to remind yourself of what's gone into your body in the last few hours. Often that is enough to curb thoughts of more.
• Doing the Grams: 30 grams of carbs (minus fiber). 60-80g of protein. These are my daily goals. Not difficult, if you keep a diary that calculates as you go -- and shows you where you could cut back and/or make wiser choices in future, if you make an honest mistake.
• Remember the Good: Is my face more defined? (Yes.) Are my jeans loose? (Hell, yeah -- and my belt is on the second-to-last notch for the first time in two years.) Do I feel better overall? (Absolutely.) Maybe I need to focus more on this than a silly, slow-moving number on a scale.

I can be logical and do all of this and hope for the best. The struggle is truly mental. Mind over matter, especially when your matter doesn't want to help in the slightest. And patience is not your virtue.

What do you do to recalibrate or re-up yourself for the challenges ahead? What works and what are simply platitudes? I'd love to know some of your tricks.

The numbers don't lie -- or do they?

In a week full of bottoms dropping out, it gives me no pleasure to say that there's one bottom on the rise.

That would be mine. I was up 1.5 pounds on Monday.

Logically (and, as you can see, it's taken me 72 hours to even discuss it), I tell myself: It's my cycle. I always gain 2-3 pounds of water weight per month that promptly vanishes once this week is over. It's not my fault. The true test will be what registers after this weekend. Blah blah blah.

I won't get into the "fat is a feminist issue" discussion (though it absolutely is). I won't get into the utter ridiculousness of allowing a number to determine your feeling of self-worth, even for a moment or two. I will, however, rant on misconceptions.

Reading through obesity theory and discussion, it's clear to me that a vast majority of people think fat is always caused by a diet filled with fast food, sugary soda, chips, candy, etc. The blatant offenders. For some folks, this may indeed be the problem -- though again, the deeper problem for low-income families is often calorie value per dollar (I promise I'll get into this at some point in the future.).

But what if you DON'T eat fast food, processed food, candy, soda, chips, etc. -- and still gain weight? Then what? Because that's my predicament. Ask anyone who knows me and they'll say I'm a pretty healthy eater. I love vegetables. I eat lean meats, salads and soups in normal portions. I shop organic/wild/grass-fed, etc. as much as possible because I'm privileged enough to make that choice. Hell, I love health food stores and will try just about any weirdo seaweed, exotic seasoning, or vegetarian strangeness you can throw at me. I'm a vinegar and salt girl, not a sweet tooth. And so on.

What happens when people's assumptions about you as a lazy pig just don't hold? And how frustrated am I (and, I suspect, many like me) when other folks eat whatever they want, whenever they want it, with little or no consequence.

No matter what I do -- and this includes everything from liquid diets to eating lower-carb -- pounds have never melted off this body. If I'm lucky, they creep away ounce by painful ounce, often with no rhyme or reason as to what has happened food-wise that week. I now know it's my hormones. I know it's also my thyroid and a combination of other factors, 75% of which are simply not my fault.

Perhaps you can eat cakes and ice cream and pasta galore. I'm thrilled for you -- and extremely jealous. But some of us can't. Genetics are truly half the battle. I'm undoing years of bad dietary advice, coupled with wonky hormones, insulin resistance, and a broken metabolism. For many of us, it's not just "eat less, move more." If only it were that simple...

And if only that stupid scale would show progress in the right direction come Monday morning.